


though the stars walk backward

by alykapedia



Series: pastel blue blush [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alien Culture, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: “Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.” - E.E. CummingsYuuri's only ever wanted to send a message out into the great vastness of space, maybe witnessFirst Contactduring his lifetime. He gets his wish. And then some.





	though the stars walk backward

**Author's Note:**

> Written for enter21 on tumblr!! 
> 
> They wanted something kinda inspired by Urusei Yatsura and I kinda...ended up with this. 
> 
> (Writing may be kind of clunky. Let's just ignore any weirdness and inconsistencies because I'm tired and I just hacked out 7k words worth of fic; mistakes will happen.)

Transmission failed. Retry?

Back when he’d first started working on the project, Yuuri decides to keep a tally of all the times their transmissions failed. It begins as an attempt to keep track of things, figure out what they were doing wrong, discover which frequencies yielded only the silence of space, and keep tabs on their progress. Of course, as time passed and the failures continued to stack up, the tally quickly became something of an unwanted reminder, a living monument to all their disappointments.

The smart thing would be to delete the log, or at least, make it so that it still keeps track of the nonworking frequencies but no longer keeps a record of their failures for everyone to see. But Yuuri’s always been stubborn to a fault, so the _failure log_ , as Phichit calls it, still exists up to this day, and is permanently up on one of the many screens in Yuuri’s workstation.

Rubbing tiredly at his eyes, Yuuri watches as a new entry gets added to the failure log and sighs. It’s been a year since he got reassigned from engineering to the team handling Intergalactic Research, and Yuuri’s starting to think that JJ might have had a point when he’d commented that the assignment was a dead-end gig—career suicide—because other than that tiny fluke of a transmission they managed to send a month ago, they’ve had little to no progress with their assignment and Yuuri is starting to doubt that they ever will.

Maybe it’s futile to hope that there’s life out there in the darkness of space and that we’re not alone.

Still, Yuuri types in a new frequency code and hits retry.

** [Retry] **

Begin transmission...sending... 

Transmission failed. Retry?

With a click of his tongue, Yuuri pulls up the file containing the report for last month’s transmission, taking note of the frequency, as well as the— _huh_ —approximate coordinates where it was directed. They’ve mostly been broadcasting their transmissions everywhere, hoping to contact everyone and anyone in the known (and perhaps _unknown_ ) galaxy. But judging from last month’s report, they probably should have been directing their efforts in just one direction, because, Yuuri realizes as he pulls up the other reports and compares them side-by-side, the one time he’d accidentally messed with the coordinates was and still remains to be the only time their signal reached something.

Or _someone_.

“Alright, fine,” Yuuri mutters, typing in the coordinates and sending up a small prayer to a deity he doesn’t really believe in. “If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, then it doesn’t.”

Yuuri honestly has nothing to lose at this point.

He hits retry.

** [Retry] **

Begin transmission...sending...

Transmission failed. Retry?

Yuuri grimaces at the words blinking mockingly on the screen and runs a hand through his hair, barely resisting the urge to yell. No one would hear him if he did, the office empty but for him. Today’s technically an off-day for his team to make way for repairs and calibrations and Yuuri knows that if Dr. Cialdini finds out that he’s working overtime _again_ , he’s never going to hear the end of it.

He’s only really been cleared to pick up a few holo boards he’d left behind and to clear out his secret stash of senbei and Pocky before Guang-hong and Leo can get to them, but he’d sat down to check on a couple of their pet projects (e.g. Seung-gil’s not-so-secret “evil” AI) and it was just muscle memory to start tapping away. It’s kinda sad, but Yuuri’s been doing this nonstop for months now and it’s only really a matter of time before it becomes something of a habit.

At least he hasn’t been dreaming about sending transmissions like Leo had a while back.

Yuuri’s fingers are already flying over the keyboard once more to change the configurations when his communicator pings, and he’s putting the call through without checking who it is.

He just hopes it’s not Phichit.

“ _Yuuri?_ ”

Yuuri bites down on a groan. “Phichit, hi!”

Over the communicator, Phichit makes an annoyed sound that Yuuri has come to associate with Phichit’s mother henning, and he doesn’t have to wait long before Phichit begins his speech. “ _Where are you? Dr. Cao Bin’s treating the entire dorm and there’s so much food. There’s even an entire Peking duck_.”

Glancing down at his half-eaten konbini sandwich, Yuuri admits, “I’m actually at the office,” because Phichit always, always finds out, so he might as well just come clean. Also, if he confesses now, then maybe Phichit would save him some of the Peking duck.

A beat of silence greets his admission, followed by a long-suffering sigh.

“ _Please don’t tell me you’re sending out transmissions,_ ” Phichit says, even though he sounds like he already knows what Yuuri’s answer is going to be.

“Well,” Yuuri begins, and it’s a good thing Phichit can’t see him because Yuuri’s pretty sure that he has a shit-eating grin on his face right now. “I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Yuuri, it’s our day off!” Phichit says, obviously exasperated. “Don’t make me call Ciao Ciao on you.” It’s the last thing Yuuri wants and he grimaces because there’s no doubt that Phichit would tell on him if need be.

Quickly typing in the rest of the coordinates and adjusting the frequency, Yuuri says, “Fine, I was just finishing up anyway.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Phichit says in the tone of someone who’s heard Yuuri use the same line far too many times. “But if you’re not back at the dorms in fifteen minutes, I’m calling Ciao Ciao and I’m not saving you any food.”

With that delightful ultimatum, Phichit hangs up.

The commute back to the dorms theoretically takes around fifteen minutes, but never in all of Yuuri’s years working for the International Space Agency does he actually get to their office within that time, which means that Yuuri should be leaving his workstation right this instant or somehow manage to teleport. Seeing as the last time the engineering department tried to teleport anything ended in a power surge and half an apple, Yuuri plugs in the last of the needed information, hits retry, then proceeds to run like the hounds of hell were behind him.

** [Retry] **

Begin transmission...sending...

Sending...

Sending...

Sending...

** Transmission sent. **

 

.

 

“—ri, Yuuri, wake up!”

“G’way, m’sleepinf.”

Retreating further into the cocoon of his sheets, Yuuri keeps his eyes firmly shut and shrugs off Phichit’s grip on his shoulders. Unless the world is ending, Yuuri’s not going to wake up before his alarm rings and Phichit really should know better by now than attempt to wake him up. It’s never worked and it will never work, because as soon as Yuuri was able to pick his own schedules, he’s never had to wake up before nine in the morning, and he’s not about to start now.

Still, Phichit is persistent, and Yuuri, despite his efforts, is slowly but surely waking up from the way Phichit is shaking and tugging at him.

“Yuuri, I’m serious, come _on!_ ” Phichit’s managed to unravel the sheets and Yuuri grumbles, before burying his face into his pillow because Phichit has another thing coming if he thinks he can beat Yuuri in a contest of stubbornness.

Above him, Yuuri can hear Phichit’s annoyed sigh, as well as feel the weight get redistributed on his bed as Phichit stands, and he’s all but ready to be left alone and get some more rest, when a new voice pipes up.

“The director wants you in her office now,” Guang-hong says, and _that_ wakes Yuuri right up, has him scrambling up on the bed, heart beating hummingbird fast inside his chest.

“What?!”

Getting called to Director Baranovskaya’s office isn’t exactly the end of the world, but it’s pretty damn close.

“I told you to start with that,” Guang-hong points out.

Phichit clicks his tongue. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to give him a heart attack so early in the morning.” A pile of clothes gets thrown onto his lap, followed by his glasses, and Yuuri hastily puts them on, blinking away the sleep still clinging to his lashes as he tries and makes sense of the situation. “Put that on,” Phichit says from where he’s digging in Yuuri’s closet. “God, why do you only own this one ugly tie?”

“Why does the director want to see me?” Yuuri finally asks once he gets his thoughts in order, watching in trepidation as Phichit and Guang-hong share a look, grimace at each other, and then at him.

“We’ll tell you on the way, how about that?” Phichit offers with a smile that convinces absolutely no one, least of all Yuuri.

Getting to his feet, Yuuri starts to put on the clothes that Phichit had thrown at him, which turn out to be his nicest suit (i.e. the suit that his parents and Minako got him as a gift for getting his doctorate). He puts the suit on mechanically, runs a perfunctory hand through his hair, and does a lousy job at tying his necktie, before reaching for a pair of socks and the Oxfords stashed under his bed. “It better be a damn good explanation,” he says after he’s made sure that he looks as decent as he can possibly get.

“It’s actually kind of self-explanatory,” Guang-hong says as he and Phichit proceed to haul Yuuri out of his room, down the stairs and out of the dorm.

It’s only then that Yuuri notices that Phichit and Guang-hong are also dressed up. All of them are, even Leo and Seung-gil who are already waiting for them in the car, and Yuuri’s slowly but steadily coming to himself and realizing that whatever the reason he’s being called in, it’s serious enough that Seung-gil, who normally drives incredibly slowly, is pushing the speed limit.

“Okay,” Phichit starts, pulling out his tablet. “So earlier today, NASA sent us these photos.”

The photos are high quality, offering a view of Earth and—

“Is this a joke?” Yuuri can’t help but ask, because right there, in front of the moon, is a spaceship. Like something straight out of the set of Star Trek or Star Wars. And it’s not some measly space shuttle too, Yuuri realizes when he takes the tablet out of Phichit’s hands and starts to swipe through the gallery. Someone from NASA had taken the ship and compared it to several known structures to give them an idea of just how massive it is.

“Not a joke,” Leo quips from the front seat, holding up another tablet showing pictures of the spaceship taken from a different angle. “The ESA also sent us proof and the Russians did too, so unless three different agencies are shitting us, they’re pretty legit.”

_First contact._

Yuuri’s mind reels at the realization. Because this is big, bigger than him, bigger than all of them combined, and Yuuri’s just some dime-a-dozen astrophysicist and he doesn’t know why Director Baranovskaya wants to see him of all people when there are so many people better and smarter than him.

“Why am I being called in then?”

Silence answers his question, everyone looking at him with varying degrees of exasperation. Even Seung-gil spears him with a look that speaks volumes over the rearview mirror.

“Don’t be dumb, it’s your transmission that brought them here,” Seung-gil says, and before Yuuri can reply, Phichit cuts him off with a squeeze to his arm.

“Apparently, you actually got into contact with someone last month, and they’ve been kinda...waiting?”

Yuuri blinks. “So the transmissions I sent yesterday—”

“Finally led them here, yes,” Guang-hong continues, before adding, “And they uh, want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

This time, it’s Leo who answers, twisting on his seat to face them as Seung-gil begins to park; they’re not in their usual spot, the parking lot filled with cars that Yuuri doesn’t recognize. “Who knows?” Leo says with a shrug. The aliens aren’t hostile right now, but they can be, so we’re just kinda giving them what they want. And what they want is to talk to the person who sent the transmission, hence this whole production.”  

And it’s definitely a production.

A cadre of security guards greet them as soon as they get out of the car, leading them inside the building, making sure that they aren’t stopped by any of the strange men and women milling around. The ISA headquarters has been Yuuri’s home for around two years now; he knows every nook and cranny, knows almost everyone by name, and seeing strangers dressed in sleek suits and military uniforms in its halls, feels like an even bigger invasion compared to the massive spaceship hovering just above Earth’s atmosphere.

They make their way past the laboratories and the conference rooms, before finally making for the elevators leading up to the offices. From there, Yuuri gets separated from the rest of his team, one of the guards instructing him to head on up by himself to the director’s office.

Yuuri’s only been to Director Baranovskaya’s office a total of two times. The first time he does is when he got invited to join the ISA after he receiving his doctorate degree as the Engineering Department’s primary scientist, and the second time he does is a year ago when he was transferred from Engineering to Intergalactic Research. Yuuri can’t help but wonder if the third time he does, is when Director Baranovskaya finally gets rid of him, because it’s his fault that there’s a spaceship filled with possibly hostile aliens who probably have the advanced technology to exterminate them all.

He’s watched enough alien movies to have a pretty good idea of how this would end.

Straightening his coat, Yuuri takes a deep breath before knocking on the door. He doesn’t have to wait long before he hears a muffled, “ _Come in_ ”, and Yuuri is walking inside, feeling every bit like a misbehaving schoolboy who’s been called to the principal’s office.

“Katsuki,” Director Baranovskaya greets from where she’s sitting behind her table, peering up at him with flinty eyes. “Sit.”

“Director Baranovskaya.”

Yuuri settles down gingerly on the lone chair in front of Director Baranovskaya’s table, watching as she fills up two glasses with vodka. Once both glasses are filled to the brim, almost overflowing, she takes one and motions at Yuuri to take the other.

“Drink,” she says with a small huff. “You look like you need it more than I do.” Yuuri’s not entirely sure what he looks like right now, but he can’t deny that he does need a stiff drink, and he figures that he deserves it too. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he downs the vodka, wincing as it burns a trail down his throat. “Now,” Director Baranovskaya begins after she takes a sip of her own drink, “I assume Chulanont and the rest of your team have already broken the the nondisclosure agreement that they’ll be signing and told you everything, yes?”

Eyebrows rising, Yuuri asks, “We’re signing NDAs now?” Because the last time he checked, he worked for an organization geared towards providing knowledge to everyone, and an NDA seems antithetical to what they stand for.

“Several governments and their military are making us all sign NDAs.” Director Baranovskaya rolls her eyes as she says the words, which tells Yuuri exactly what she thinks about the entire thing. “But they need not know that we’ve already broken them. We are scientists, not soldiers, and we are not beholden to them. I want you to remember that in your future dealings with our _visitors_.”

The way she says the word _visitors_ has the hair on the back of Yuuri’s neck standing up, and he finds himself reaching for the bottle of vodka and pouring himself another glass.

“So, they’re really real, then?” Yuuri asks even though something tells him that he already knows the answer to that.

In lieu of answering, Director Baranovskaya switches on the large monitor behind her, treating Yuuri to a live feed from the International Space Station, showing the spaceship in real time. Yuuri gasps, eyes growing wide behind his glasses as he takes in the view. The ship is even more majestic than the pictures he’d seen earlier, all sleek lines and burnished metal--a beautiful harbinger of possible doom.

“How much do you know?” Director Baranovskaya asks, calling Yuuri’s attention away from the large monitor.

Downing the vodka in one go yet again, Yuuri haltingly narrates what his team has told him over the car ride, all the while resisting the urge to refill his glass. The last thing Yuuri needs is to get rip roaringly drunk in front of his boss after all. He makes sure to get all the details out before ending with, “--and that they want to talk to me for some reason.”

“We’ve managed a very rough translator for them and we’ve been able to somehow communicate.” Director Baranovskaya begins, answering the question that’s been niggling at the back of Yuuri’s mind ever since he found out that their _visitors_ were looking for him. If Star Trek has taught him anything, it’s that Redshirts always die and that establishing communication is always key to any mission. “What your team, or anyone else, does not know yet is that our visitors are not here just for a friendly visit, they are here for territorial expansion, and they’re here to talk terms,” she continues, and it’s as if the temperature drops, along with Yuuri’s heart.

Director Baranovskaya might as well have just said that the aliens were here to invade them, instead of dressing it up in some politically correct term like _territorial expansion_.

“And because of your transmissions, they now view you as Earth’s…” Here, Director Baranovskaya trails off, a bemused expression flitting on her face as she searches for the right word to describe him. Yuuri absently wonders if he should just tell her that it’s fine to call him an idiot, because he definitely is one for bringing them all to the brink of an alien invasion, but then she continues, and says, “Champion,” which is honestly the last thing Yuuri wants to be.

“But I’m—” Yuuri starts, because he’s so far removed from being a champion, least of all Earth’s, only to pause when he sees the knowing and expectant look on Director Baranovskaya’s face. “You want me to bluff my way into this.” It comes out more as an accusation than a statement, as it should be, because Director Baranovskaya smiles the same smile she wore when she plucked him off of NASA’s recruitment arm and into the ISA’s.

“You’re a smart boy, Katsuki. You’ll figure it out.”

 

.

 

The meeting with the aliens goes about as well as Yuuri thought it would, by which he means it’s a complete clusterfuck and he is genuinely surprised that no one’s tried to kill anyone. Aside from the directors from NASA and ESA, as well as a couple of other scientists and some UN representatives, a few smarmy politicians have wormed their way into the meeting, thus making the entire thing more complicated than it has to be. Especially since they kept on interrupting Yuuri every time he tried to say anything, until he had to break out what Guang-hong affectionately calls his _science conference voice_ that apparently makes him sound like a psychopath, to get them in line.

It also had the additional advantage of making the aliens—the _Nevans_ —look at him with a bit more respect, or at least had the royal advisor—Councilor Yakov—look at Yuuri with a bit more respect. Because the Crown Prince—Prince Viktor—did nothing but stare at Yuuri like he wasn’t quite sure why someone so insignificant was Earth’s so-called Champion.

A sentiment that’s now being shared very loudly by Duke Yuri in the middle of the ceremonial banquet celebrating the newly-formed and precarious agreement between Earth and Neva.

“—why an idiot like you would be Terra’s Champion!” Duke Yuri screams before making a noise that’s somehow both hissing and guttural that the translator can’t make heads nor tails of. Not that it needs any translating, because it’s already very obvious what Duke Yuri thinks of him; Yuuri can almost see the animosity coming off of him in waves. Duke Yuri manages one last harsh, guttural sound before stomping away, the tips of his pointed ears bright blue.

“Hemocyanin.”

A familiar voice says from behind him and Yuuri turns to see Sara Crispino looking out into the bustling hall with bright eyes. She’s dressed in a slinky, red dress, a far cry from her usual scrubs and lab gown combo.

He must look absolutely confused, because Sara hurries to explain, “What makes them blue. It’s hemocyanin.”

“Oh.”

The Nevans, who hail from the planet Neva just at the border of Andromeda, are mostly humanoid in appearance, with the notable exceptions of their pointed ears, crystalline eyes, and the seemingly blue flush coloring their pale complexions. They look almost fey, deceptively ethereal, as if they weren’t capable of destroying humanity in the blink of an eye. Yuuri’s seen the specs of the spaceship they arrived in, not to mention witnessed a Nevan move a sedan out of the way like it weighs nothing—their so-called visitors were technologically and physically more advanced than they are, and it still boggles Yuuri’s mind how he’s managed to broker some kind of deal with them.

“We’re doing a whole scientific exchange back on our table and the Nevans were talking about how the oxygen concentration on Earth is pretty high, which somehow led to the question of blood elements, and we found out that instead of iron, they have copper-based blood,” Sara says, before adding with a laugh, “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Yuuri has a PhD in astrophysics and the last time he touched biology was when he was still in undergrad. “Not one bit,” he admits sheepishly, “but it sounds very interesting.”

“Leave the xenobiology to me, you just worry about keeping peace, Mr. Earth’s Champion.” Sara looks like she’s about to say more, but her eyes widen as she glances at someone over his shoulder. “Looks like you have an incoming,” she says, before quickly making her escape and leaving Yuuri whirling around to see Prince Viktor making his way towards him.

When he’d first seen the Crown Prince of Neva, Yuuri had thought that he looked like a fairy tale prince come to life—handsome and regal, a real-life Prince Charming—and he finds himself revising his opinion because while Prince Viktor looks every bit the prince he is as he stalks towards Yuuri, he also looks as if he’s a predator on the prowl, moving with an almost leonine grace.

And Yuuri feels every bit like a prey animal, eyes wide and heart rabitting inside his chest.

“Champion Katsuki,” Prince Viktor greets, bringing his closed fist to the center of his chest and bowing.

“Your Highness,” Yuuri returns the greeting, his own salute leaving much to be desired. “And please, it’s just Yuuri,” he adds; hearing Prince Viktor, who is _Neva’s Champion_ , call Yuuri _one_ feels more like an insult than anything, as if the prince was mocking him.

“Yuuri, then.” Inclining his head in a nod, Prince Viktor continues, “I have been informed that Terrans exhibit sexual dimorphism.” It’s a surprising topic for conversation to be sure, but they are both alien to each other so Yuuri figures it makes some sense. “Tell me, are you a male or a female of your species?”

“Um,” Yuuri starts, feeling just a bit flustered. “I’m a Terran male.”

Prince Viktor nods again, taking the information and filing it away. “I wish to personally extend my congratulations for the success of our talks earlier,” he says, making a blush erupt on Yuuri’s cheeks. It means a lot to hear that from someone who has been participating in such talks for a very long time now, and there’s a _thank you_ already burning on Yuuri’s tongue. At least until Prince Viktor extinguishes it with his next words that fill Yuuri with dread and frustration. “However, it must be said that it was very evident that you are untrained in the art of diplomacy. It’s very lucky that you were able to overcome such shortcomings—”

The prince stops, blinking rapidly, confusion spreading on his face before quickly being replaced by panic.

“I have offended you,” Prince Viktor says in a horrified rush, but instead of comforting him, it only serves to incense Yuuri even further. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have, but you are projecting your emotions quite loudly and—”

Yuuri doesn’t get the chance to listen to the rest of Prince Viktor’s statement because he’s already turning away and escaping, heading straight towards the tower of champagne he’d spied earlier.

The Nevans are telepaths _and_ empaths.

Yuuri’s completely forgotten about it, and now he’s just gone and _projected_ all over their Crown Prince.

_Awesome._

Yuuri has three empty glasses in front of him before he realizes that no, this isn’t champagne and that he’s way more drunk than he should be. The smart thing to do would be to stop drinking the not-champagne, get a glass of water, and walk off the frustration still simmering in his stomach, but not even Yuuri’s PhD can save him from making bad choices and downing two, maybe twelve, more glasses of the not-champagne.

Things start getting a bit woozy after that, and Yuuri thinks he remembers going up to Duke Yuri and telling him just what the hell he thinks about getting yelled at by some brat. Remembers challenging him to a dance-off because dance has always been Yuuri’s first love and he’s ready to throw down. Remembers Prince Viktor interrupting and accepting the challenge instead, standing in front of Yuuri as if he’s agreeing to a marriage proposal instead of dance battle.

The last thing Yuuri _truly_ remembers is Prince Viktor’s bright blue eyes and his equally bright blue blush as Yuuri pulls him into a tango.

 

.

 

Yuuri wakes up with the worst headache he’s ever experienced in his entire life.

(So far, at least.)

His head feels like it’s being split open with a sledgehammer and his entire body feels like it’s been dragged to hell and back, and there’s no doubt in his mind that he looks just as worse as he feels. Probably even more.

He really, really should’ve stopped at his second glass of not-champagne.

Cracking his eyes open, he’s thankfully greeted by the blurry but familiar ceiling of his bedroom which solves at least five problems from the get-go, because the last time he got blackout drunk, he’d ended up in the ER. He flails a hand towards the general direction of his bedside table, letting out a weak cheer when he finds his glasses intact. It takes an embarrassing amount of tries to finally get them on, but when he does, Yuuri slowly gets to his feet and staggers out of his room, lured by the scent of coffee.

What he finds, unfortunately, is not _just_ coffee, but Director Baranovskaya and Councilor Yakov sitting on the sofa, a pot of freshly-brewed coffee on the low table in front of them. They’re engaged in a conversation when he stumbles in on shaky legs, clad in nothing but a ratty undershirt and boxer shorts. Yuuri wonders just what he did to deserve this punishment when Director Baranovskaya looks up and takes in his disheveled appearance with a raised eyebrow.

“Good, you’re awake,” Director Baranovskaya says, making Councilor Yakov also look up at him with judgment and thwarting whatever plans Yuuri had of escaping. “Sit.”

Yuuri does, practically running towards the armchair right across the sofa and sitting down with a thump.

There’s only a handful of reasons why both Director Baranovskaya and Councilor would be here to see him, all of them bad, and all of them most likely related to the hangover wreaking havoc on his system. “I—I apologize for any trouble I might have caused last night,” he begins, bowing as low as he can in his position. “I promise you that it will not happen again.” Yuuri’s swearing off alcohol for the foreseeable future.

Councilor Yakov makes a choking sound, and Yuuri straightens up to see the Nevan looking at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, face devoid of all color.

“Do you not remember what happened last night?” Councilor Yakov asks and the bottom of Yuuri’s stomach drops.

“I’m—” Yuuri falters, trying in vain to remember what horror he’d unleashed last night. It’s his Kansai genes, he just knows it, and he wonders if the Nevans have developed time travel yet because Yuuri would give just about anything to stop himself from getting stupidly drunk last night. “I can’t remember anything past drinking ten of the—” he trails off, unsure what to call the not-champagne.

“Kvass,” Councilor Yakov supplies and Yuuri nods, earning himself a mystified look from the Nevan. “You drank ten glasses of Kvass?”

“Uh, I think I drank more than ten.”

At his admission, Councilor Yakov’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets and he demands, “So you do not remember proposing marriage to the Crown Prince and winning his hand in marriage?”

It’s Yuuri’s turn to be dumbstruck, and he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times as he tries to process Councilor Yakov’s words, but no matter how many ways Yuuri runs the question through his head, it becomes no less baffling.

“Excuse me, I did _what_?”

Councilor Yakov must have misspoken—a translation error. They were still working on a better translation program, and surely, surely there must have been a mistake—

“Nevan culture dictates that challenging anyone to a battle of skill, in your case, a dance battle, is equivalent to a marriage proposal, one that the Crown Prince has accepted,” Director Baranovskaya says, and Yuuri buries his face into his hands because he _does_ recall challenging someone to a dance off last night. It’s just his luck that it happened to be the Crown Prince. “And since you have bested Prince Viktor in this battle of skill, you have essentially won his hand in marriage and you are slated to become His Highness’ consort.”

Yuuri stops breathing.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, Councilor Yakov says in clarification, “The Galactic Consort, to be precise. Neva presides over most of Andromeda and a few distant satellites, and now with Terra agreeing to a treaty, her territory has expanded, so marrying the Crown Prince would make you Galactic Consort.”

“But—but I didn’t know!” Yuuri splutters. He has no plans of being anyone’s consort; Yuuri barely manages to be himself, and he’s either going to get himself killed or get someone killed, and with his luck, it’s going to be the Crown Prince. “It’s not how proposals work here on Earth and it’s all a big misunderstanding!” He says, looking at Councilor Yakov beseechingly. “Surely—surely we can explain and...not make me Galactic...Consort?”

“My apologies, Champion Katsuki.” The Councilor grimaces, looking as if he really does feel sorry for Yuuri. “As I have told Director Baranovskaya, last night’s celebration was broadcast all over Neva and her colonies.” Well, _fuck_. “Her Imperial Majesty, The Queen of Neva, and her consort have already begun the preparations for your wedding to the Crown Prince. They are quite excited to see their only son finally wed.”

It’s the final nail in the coffin and Yuuri can feel the fight leave him as he collapses against the armchair, wishing that it would swallow him whole so that he doesn’t have to be _Galactic Consort_.

God, Phichit was going to laugh at him for this.

“And I guess breaking the Prince’s heart is out of the question if we want to keep the peace treaty.”

Councilor Yakov nods. “The engagement is binding, and the only way it can be broken is if one of the involved parties dies.”

Forget Phichit, _his sister_ was going to laugh at him _forever_.

“Right,” Yuuri says, feeling halfway towards death already. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go throw up.”  

 

.

 

Prince Viktor’s eyes are incredibly blue.

It’s all Yuuri can focus on as he explains haltingly that challenging someone to a battle of skill isn’t how engagements are done on Earth, and he watches as the elation on Prince Viktor’s handsome face gives way to confusion and dismay. He remembers Councilor Yakov advising him against telling the truth, saying that Prince Viktor would be heartbroken by the confession. Yuuri had thought that it was a loud of bull, because why would the Crown Prince of a galactic empire be disappointed that some random Earthling didn’t really mean to propose to him?

It just doesn’t make any sense.

But now that he’s watching Prince Viktor blink away tears, Yuuri can’t help but think that Councilor Yakov’s warnings held some truth, and that for some unfathomable reason, Prince Viktor _wants to marry him_.

“You do not wish to marry me, then?” Prince Viktor finally asks after a long stretch of silence, sounding as if Yuuri had just broken his heart into a million tiny pieces.

“I—I mean we just met!” Yuuri blurts out, fidgeting in his seat, grasping for words. “You’re incredibly attractive, don’t get me wrong,” he starts again, because he _does_ think that Prince Viktor is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen and Yuuri is very much attracted to him. “But you know nothing about me, and aside from the fact that you’re the prince to an empire, I don’t know anything about you either.”

Shaking his head, Yuuri continues, “And I don’t understand why you would just accept this whole thing when you can do so much better.” Yuuri’s not hideous, but he’s no great beauty either. He’s plain and unassuming, and the only thing that’s particularly impressive about him is that he’s so much of a nerd that he got his PhD at a young age. “I understand that an engagement is binding in your culture, but I also don’t want to trap you into something just because of a cultural misunderstanding.”

“You’re not trapping me into anything,” Prince Viktor says, looking at Yuuri incredulously. “I could have rejected your challenge last night. I would have been well within my rights to do so, but I chose not to, because I wanted you to propose to me.”

Hearing the words said aloud only confuses Yuuri. “But why?”

“Because you made me _feel_ ,” comes Prince Viktor’s explanation. “I come from a clan of strong empaths, and I’ve never felt anything even with my gifts. But when I received your transmission, I felt your yearning, your longing for space, and it was as if I could breathe for the very first time.” There’s a faint blush dusting the prince’s cheeks now and Yuuri feels an answering blush of his own, caught in Prince Viktor’s words. “Can I—Can I show you?” Prince Viktor holds out his hands, peering up at Yuuri through his pale lashes.

Yuuri looks down at Prince Viktor’s hands with trepidation even as he reaches out, hands hovering. “Um, how?”

“Like this,” Prince Viktor says in a whisper, lining up their hands so that their palms were pressed together and then it’s—

_—an aching a longing a yearning he’s never felt before—_

_—_ I’m Yuuri Katsuki from Earth and this message _—_

_—warmth enveloping him whole so warm—_

_—_ that there’s someone, anyone out there _—_

_—as if he’s being filled with a bright light changing him entire—_

_—_ to know that we are not alone _—_

_—and it’s overwhelming too much too much like he’s a star becoming a supernova—_

Yuuri pulls away with a gasp, heart thrumming a rapid drumbeat inside his chest as he stares back at Prince Viktor wonderingly. The emotional transference is a heady rush and Yuuri feels punch-drunk, reeling from the flood of too much emotion in too short a time. He’s always loved space, grew up wanting to reach the stars, and it’s overwhelming to feel that love and desperation mirrored back and amplified a thousandfold—overwhelming to know that his feelings have gone out to the farthest corners of space and reached someone.

“That’s—” Yuuri begins, heart stuck in his throat. “You got all that from my transmission?”

“Yes.” Prince Viktor nods, earnest, his blue eyes shining even brighter than before. “I’ve been trying to find where the transmission came from, because as selfish as it sounds, I wanted those emotions directed at me, so if anyone’s trapping anyone into anything, I do believe I’m the one who is at fault.”

Yuuri’s mouth has fallen open in the wake of Prince Viktor’s confession and he fumbles to ask, “So—so what you’re saying is that you came to Earth for me?”

Prince Viktor doesn’t even hesitate.

“Essentially, yes.”

 

.

 

The last time he’d gone home to Hasetsu was five years ago and not once did Yuuri think that he’d be returning home with an alien fiancé in tow, but that’s exactly what happens and he absently wonders just when his life became a sci-fi novel. It hasn’t even been a week since his proposal and subsequent engagement and Yuuri already feels as if his world has turned upside down.

Just a few days ago, Yuuri’s days were filled with getting as many transmissions out as possible, making sure Seung-gil didn’t break Asimov’s Laws, and keeping Phichit, Leo, and Guang-hong from making things explode. Now, Yuuri’s days were filled with wedding preparations, cultural exchanges, and most recently, getting to know his future in-laws, who happen to be the Queen of Neva and her consort.

Viktoria and Ekaterina had been nothing but kind and accommodating that even through the grainy intergalactic video call, Yuuri could easily feel their warmth and excitement. Of course, now that Yuuri’s gone and met Viktor’s parents, it was only polite that Yuuri bring _him_ home to his hometown to meet his family, which is how Yuuri ends up in Hasetsu, with Vicchan sleeping in his lap and his sister bullying him into folding the laundry.

It’s almost as if he’s never left.

“So what,” Mari finally says after a straight hour of comfortable silence and the occasional quip about Yuuri’s terrible folding technique and the drama they’re watching. “Are you going to be a prince or something?” She asks, raising an eyebrow at him as she reaches for the next pile of freshly-laundered sheets.

It’s the last thing Yuuri wants to talk about, but he supposes that it’s about time he got asked about it. Reaching for another sheet, Yuuri shrugs and answers, “Prince consort.” He’s trying to get used to saying it, but the title still feels weird in his mouth, and Yuuri doubts that it’ll stop being weird anytime soon.

“Wow.” Mari whistles with a look on her face that has Yuuri dreading her next words before she’s even said them. “Do I have to call you _Your Highness_ now?”

“Shut _up_ ,” Yuuri groans, biting down on the _or I’ll tell mom on you_ , because he’s 23 and it’s probably bad form to still tell on your older sister for teasing you. It’s a good thing Viktor’s off trying out the hot springs because Yuuri’s not sure he can take Mari’s teasing with him around.

Another comfortable silence settles between them, and Yuuri thinks that that’s it until his sister clears her throat and asks, “Are you sure you wanna do this? I mean, I get that he’s the prince of an alien race, but if you don’t want to do this, then just say so.”

“Well, I technically can’t break off the engagement, but—” Yuuri trails off, abandoning the sheet he’s folding in favor of running a gentle hand over Vicchan’s coat, careful not to wake him up. Ever since his talk with Viktor and his explanation about how proposals would worn on Earth, they’ve been trying to make it work and Yuuri’s finding that he’s becoming less and less averse to the idea of marriage. Yuuri’s only ever been on a handful of dates and has never had a relationship before, but he thinks he can do this with Viktor. “We’re getting to know each other and we’re going on dates and stuff.”

When he looks up from where he’s been staring at Vicchan, he finds Mari visibly biting down on a smile. “ _Oh_ , you _like_ him,” Mari says, making Yuuri erupt into a torrid blush. He’s not really sure about his feelings just yet, but Yuuri thinks that he does like Viktor. Maybe even a lot. “I guess it’s fine then.”

“Wait, you’re okay with this whole thing as long as I like him?” Yuuri asks, incredulous, because he’d expected Mari to have the most qualms about the entire thing.

“Obviously. That’s the most important part. Also, I’ve seen how he looks at you and I’ve never seen anyone more lovestruck.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes even though he knows it to be true, remembering their first ever meeting where Yuuri had mistaken Viktor’s staring for something more sinister, when it was really just Viktor not being able to look away.

“I think the triplets recorded him last night staring at you unblinkingly for an entire hour while you chatted with Minako,” Mari adds, this time grinning openly.

“ _Neechan_.”

“What? It’s true!”

He’s still getting used to the fact that someone as attractive as Viktor is attracted to him, and Yuuri’s about to turn back to folding the sheets so that he doesn’t have to look at his sister’s smirking face when his dad calls out:

_“Yuuri! Come here, Viktor’s collapsed down at the baths!”_

Yuuri’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What?!” He’s stumbling to his feet before he knows it, slowing down just enough to hand Vicchan off to Mari before he’s running off to the baths. He arrives just in time to see his dad press a can of Asahi to an unconscious Viktor’s brow and Yuuri doesn’t waste any time dawdling around and approaches.

“He couldn’t take the heat,” his dad explains, nodding at Viktor who’s lying down on one of the benches before letting Yuuri hold the can as he straightens up. “I’ll go get some ice from the kitchen.”

As soon as his dad leaves, Yuuri’s sitting down on the locker room floor, making sure that the cold can was touching Viktor’s warm forehead. He’s a violent shade of blue and Yuuri almost jumps when Viktor stirs, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes open.

“Viktor? Are you okay?” Yuuri asks, his other hand coming up to touch Viktor’s cheek. According to Sara’s team of xenobiologists, Nevans had a lower basal temperature suited to a much cooler environment and it’s worrying that Viktor be this warm.

“I underestimated how hot it would be,” Viktor rasps out, managing a small smile that Yuuri echoes helplessly, trying to quell the fear tying his stomach into knots. “There are similar hot springs back in Neva and I thought I could take the heat.” Reaching up to touch his cheek, Viktor says, “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Yuuri can only shake his head, smoothing a hand down Viktor’s chest and trying not to marvel at the fact that Viktor had pastel blue nipples. “It’s fine.”

“Your family is extremely kind.” Viktor quirks a smile that has Yuuri’s heart tripping all over itself, falling ass over teakettle, reminding him of Mari’s earlier teasing.  “Thank you for inviting me to meet them,” he says, and Yuuri tries to rein in the sudden flood of emotion he feels, but from the way Viktor’s eyes widen, smile going soft, he’s far too late for that and Viktor’s probably well aware of just how much Yuuri likes him at this very moment. “You’re projecting too loudly again,” Viktor warns uselessly, the blue on his cheeks burning brighter. “I can tell what you’re feeling.”

Swallowing down the apprehension building up in his throat, Yuuri reaches down to hold Viktor’s hand and leans down to press their foreheads together

“I don’t mind.”

 

.

 

Yuuri honestly can’t believe that it’s taken him this long— _an entire month!_ —before he finally asks Viktor if he can go see the spaceship. To be fair, he’s been pretty busy attending numerous conferences, going on dates—or Terran Courting Rituals, as Viktor likes to call them—and occasionally fielding questions from his future in-laws about the color scheme for his impending nuptials with the Crown Prince of Neva, so Yuuri hasn’t had the chance to come aboard the _NSS Aria_ until now.

It’s completely worth the wait.

He feels a bit like a kid set loose in a candy store, eyes wide as he takes in the sights and sounds. Before he was reassigned, Yuuri had been working on developing a ship that was, as they say in Star Trek, warp-capable, and to be on a ship that’s straight out of a sci-fi film is blowing Yuuri’s mind.

They inevitably end up at the helm that’s empty save for a skeleton crew that’s been respectfully averting their gazes away.

“If I’d known that you’d be this excited to be on the Aria, I would’ve taken you here sooner,” Viktor says, coming up behind Yuuri and resting a hand on the small of his back, startling him from where he’s been staring out of the viewport and into the vastness of space.

Leaning closer against Viktor, Yuuri says, “Sorry, this is just very exciting.” He encountered a few of his fellow ISA scientists down at the engine room and Yuuri’s still buzzing with the amount of knowledge they’d gotten from the Nevans. “We’ve been trying to build a ship that can withstand long-distance space travel, and—”

“Do you want to try it out?” Viktor asks, cutting him off and it takes Yuuri an embarrassingly long while to realize what Viktor means.

“What?”

Viktor leads him away from the viewport and towards the empty seat near the center—the captain’s chair. “Yakov will probably yell at me,” he says, earning a few startled giggles from the helmsman and navigator. “But the crew won’t mind and we can make a quick trip around your star system and be back for our dinner reservation.” Viktor says, grinning widely as he moves to sit down on the captain’s chair, leaving Yuuri to gape at him.

“Are you saying that you can pilot this thing?”

It’s a dumb question, especially since Yuuri can see and hear the skeleton crew already preparing for a launch.

“I served on the Nevan fleet after I completed my studies,” Viktor explains with a nod, pointing at a few pins on his chest. Yuuri had long thought that they were just for decoration, some fashion statement of sorts, but apparently not. “I’m technically a captain,” he adds, following his statement with a shrug as if it’s not a big deal—as if it’s not the hottest thing ever and Yuuri’s stomach didn’t just fill up with liquid heat that has him going up on his tiptoes and reaching up to pull Viktor down. “Yuuri, are you—mmppf!”

As far as first kisses go, this one is objectively terrible; an awkward meeting of lips, but it leaves Yuuri feeling warm and content.

At least, until Viktor pulls away and says wonderingly, “That—that was a human kiss.”

“Oh god,” Yuuri blurts out, hoping that he hasn’t committed yet another cultural faux pas, before asking, “How do kisses work on Neva?”

At his question Viktor smiles a heart-shaped smile. “Like this.” Viktor takes his hand in his while the other pulls down at the high collar of his sweater, enough to expose the back of his neck that’s warm to the touch under Yuuri’s palm.

After a few breathless seconds, Viktor reaches out to do the same and it’s a starburst of emotion exploding in Yuuri’s chest, filling him with _loveneedwant_ , has him capturing Viktor’s lips in a messy human kiss, heedless of the crew now watching them as he tries to convey just how he feels—

“Marry me,” Yuuri says helplessly when he finally pulls away for air, shocking Viktor who looks as if he’s on the verge of tears.

“Yes.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Was gonna have a part where Yurio is like,,accusing Viktor of stealing his fiance LMAO but guh, I'm pooped. So just imagine it.
> 
> I have a sort-of bonus!fic planned for this involving ovipositioning and egg babies because my friends are terrible enablers and ask the wrong/right questions. And like, what is the point of an Alien!AU if I can't write weird sex stuff?
> 
> (P.S. Viktor has a blueberry-colored dick.)
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please do consider [reblogging](http://alykapediaaa.tumblr.com/post/175239162051/though-the-stars-walk-backwards-alykapedia) or [retweeting!](https://twitter.com/alykapedia/status/1011253973322362880) :>
> 
> (EDIT: IM SO BLESSEDT BC PICKLE HAS DRAWN ART[FOR THIS](https://twitter.com/picklestpickle/status/1013789480094818304). LUNA DID [TOO](https://argyros.tumblr.com/post/175359514612/i-read-this-fic-about-yuuri-essentially-siren)! AND IM. IDK IDK WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF IM CRY)


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